


Code Of Rules

by gaialux



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Additional Warnings Apply, Community: kink_bingo, Consent Issues, Consent Play, M/M, Soulless Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-24
Updated: 2013-08-24
Packaged: 2017-12-24 12:17:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/939913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gaialux/pseuds/gaialux
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam without a soul still lives by a code of rules. Dark, dark Sam.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Code Of Rules

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the DW kinkbingo square of "consent play". This is strongly dub-con, so please heed the warning. Spoilers up to season 7 (with a pretty AU-y take of season 6).
> 
> Supernatural does not belong to me. This piece of fiction was written for entertainment purposes only, no profit is gained.

When Sam comes back, he starts living by a code of rules.

He has to eat, and drink, and piss, and sleep to survive. He has to smile, and speak, and walk, and be polite to get by. Just a few little things, but he keeps them at the forefront because, without them, he might as well be dead.

When he sees Dean for the first time, something clicks in him. It comes from deep inside and it’s the first time he actually feels pain. Like someone simultaneously punching him in the face, stomach, and groin. He hates it, but at first doesn’t know how to make it better.

The more time he spends with Dean, the worse it hurts. After awhile the pain just sits there, heavy and hard and coursing through his entire body. At first he’s ready to run, because that’s what you do, right? It makes sense to him - you get away from pain - but something tells him not to.

He listens to it, for reasons he’ll never understand.

But it doesn’t get easier. The rules Sam has for himself keep getting twisted by Dean. Dean seems to have this deliberate need to act like a fucking prick so Sam can no longer follow the social norms he decided for himself.

Most of the time, he wishes Dean would just disappear. But that insistent voice somewhere deep inside tells him that Dean’s important, that he has to stay with Dean. No matter what.

So he keeps doing that.

“No matter what happens, I can always count on you, right, Sammy?”

“Of course, Dean.” He should add that to the rules. To agree with Dean, because that stops fights and makes Dean leave him alone for awhile.

♯

The pain grows.

He has no idea how something already so big manages to get even bigger, but it does. Every single day he rolls over in the too-hard bed and catches a glimpse of Dean’s body, and every single day he feels like throwing up.

One morning, it all snaps.

He practically leaps from the bed, stalking across the room to Dean’s and yanking back his covers. Dean jumps awake, rolling violently to his side with eyes open wide. When he looks at Sam, those eyes seem to soften. It feels like Sam’s been kicked in the gut from the inside out.

“Heya, Sammy,” he says, a smile just as soft as his eyes coming to his lips. “What’re you doin’?” He yawns, over-exaggerated, and it makes Sam so fucking angry for no reason at all.

Instead of speaking, Sam gets onto the bed, hooking both legs on either side of of Dean’s and holding them together. He’s not moving, not yet, not even if he wants to. Just to help it along, both of Sam’s hands find Dean’s wrists and pull them together above his head. Bones of wrists grind and instead of those soft eyes, they’re flashing dark.

“What are you doing?” He repeats, and Sam catches the waiver in his voice. His lip curls up into a smile that, for once, isn’t forced.

That voice that tells him he should stay with Dean sometimes lets in other things. Little blink-and-you’ll-miss-it snippets of a life he’s never lived. At first it was his family, his Dad and Dean and even Mary, then flickers of the car, and a huge slideshow of demons and ghosts and vampires.

Then they changed, and Sam’s seeing a naked Dean on the motel bed, sometimes smiling, other times lying there with his jaw slack and hips bucking.

His rules tell him that should be disgusting - the rules say Dean’s his _brother_ \- but the voice says otherwise, and Sam’s already listened to it so much...why not just keep going?

“Gonna fuck you,” he supplies.

He’s been having a hard time understanding all these human emotions, but he does notice Dean’s eyes changing about two hundred times in the span of about two hundred nanoseconds. When he finally settles, he’s more unreadable than ever before. Sam just shrugs. Doesn’t really matter.

“Thought you forgot,” Dean says. “Fucking ray-gun brain wipe or somethin’.”

“Turn over,” he says.

Dean does it, no more hesitation needed.

Sam...doesn’t have rules for sex, but he’s had a lot these past few months, so just goes with the same thing. He yanks down Dean’s boxers and then decides (or maybe he’s voice does, sometimes it’s hard to tell) that since Dean’s a guy and doesn’t have a pussy, lube might be a good idea.

“Stay.”

When he’s sure that Dean’s going to listen to him, Sam gets off the bed and goes to the bedside table drawers. It’s in Dean’s that he finds a small tube. He can’t help but snort in disdain and look over at him. “Already fucking prepared?”

He sees Dean lick his lips, and pause. He’s not going back until he gets an answer. “Never know when you’re gonna get laid.”

“Yeah, by your brother.”

He walks back over to the bed and hooks Dean’s legs between his again. His wrists are still placed above his head, together, like he’s afraid to move. Good, he’s starting to learn.

Another thing he doesn’t have is patience, especially considering that pain is coming full-force now, pounding _everywhere_. Like a fucking migraine headache throughout his body. He flicks the lid of the lube open, smearing it between Dean’s ass and then using it to rub his own cock hard. He grits his teeth and slams into Dean.

There’s a loud hiss, followed by a stilted “Fuck” and it zig-zags pain in and out of every joint, muscle, and bone in him. Sam moves harder. Maybe if he comes it’ll be gone. Maybe if he teaches Dean a lesson in obeying him the voice will let him stop hurting. Sam grips Dean’s shoulders and keeps moving, fast and deep, ignoring Dean completely. He’s a body right now, warm beneath him.

That's all Sam really needs.

Not interested in dragging this out, Sam closes his eyes and it’s only three more thrusts into the body before he grunts out and warmth fills him, coursing through his body and releasing from his dick. He pulls out a second later, crossing the room. The pain, it hasn’t let up one bit. _Fuck_.

He’s back on his bed when Dean rolls over and Sam looks at him, curious more than anything. Those eyes, they’ve changed again but, like always, they’re pretty hard to read.

Then again, maybe he can’t read them, but the voice yells _fear_.


End file.
